CHAPTER TEN
Daniel barely noticed the bare brown hills of the West Bank, or the numerous checkpoints they had to pass, both of the Israeli government and the Palestinian Authority. David Levy’s police ID got them through with a minimum of questioning on the army’s part, although the Palestinians checked and rechecked Daniel and Remi’s FBI IDs, calling in to their headquarters. Even so, they didn’t give David’s Galil assault rifle a second glance. They were used to that sort of thing. A pair of FBI agents, on the other hand, was unusual.
Finally, they were let through, and they drove along a dusty highway past a few small, poor-looking towns of concrete buildings and some lush areas of farmland where ground water was tapped to turn bleak desert into emerald oases.
But Daniel had trouble
